


Happy Ever Afters

by Serenitys_Lady



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 10:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady/pseuds/Serenitys_Lady
Summary: A "missing scene" from the audio book "Death and the Queen".





	Happy Ever Afters

**Author's Note:**

> A/N1: This won’t make much sense to you if you have not heard the Big Finish Audio Drama “Death and the Queen”, acted out by the magnificent David Tennant and Catherine Tate. (If you haven’t gotten the 3 audios, stop reading and go buy them immediately. You will not regret it.) 
> 
> A/N2: The lovely dtstrainers challenged us writers to create the “missing scene” that could have taken place right after the end of the story. This is my Muse’s version. Take it as you will.
> 
> A/N3: And speaking of dtstrainers, once again, great thanks for checking my meagre effort and making it better.

After their ‘adventure’ on Goritania, The Doctor watched Donna surreptitiously.  He couldn’t get her comment about being ‘ _all right’_  out of his mind.  He knew that she dreamed of getting married and living  _‘Happy Ever After’_.  But just there, at the end, she threw him for a loop when she clarified that there  ** _were_**  no  _‘Happy Ever Afters’_.    
  
Except with him.  
  
What did she mean by that?  Was it a simple observation that he always managed to get them back to the TARDIS in one piece, no matter what the obstacle?  Or was there a deeper meaning?  He was confused and a tad unnerved.   
  
The Doctor never asked, and Donna never elaborated.  Their lives continued as before.  They travelled to Betelgeuse for the Winter Festival, and managed to avoid a royal scandal when Donna complimented the Prince Consort on the colour of his hose.  They had a lovely dinner at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe – at least that was what the Doctor kept calling it, much to the annoyance of his companion.  “Oh, come on, Donna,” he cajoled.  “You know you were thinking it.  Say!  When we get back, we should pull out some old Doug Adams and have a bit of a read.”  
  
This went on for a few weeks, until a particularly harrowing encounter with a group of sentient – and aggressively territorial – cat-like creatures.  They had arrived on Corlingia, a quiet pastoral planet, several days before and had been enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, visiting the botanical gardens and sampling the wares at the many street fairs and open-air markets.  
  
One afternoon, as they were taking a stroll along a field of poppies in an unusual shade of amethyst, they found themselves alongside a quietly rushing river.  The water was a clear bottle green, so clear they could see the varieties of small fish swimming among the agate rocks that lined the bed.  Much to the Doctor’s consternation, Donna slipped off her flats and began dipping her toes in the cool water.  
  
“Oh, don’t be such a big girl’s blouse,” Donna teased, when the Doctor commented on the potential danger of putting her feet in untested water.  “What’s the harm?  There’s nobody about and it feels quite nice.  You should try it.  ‘Course it would take you forever to get out of those trainers.”  Seeing how dismayed he was by her actions, she huffed in mock-resentment.  “Alright, ya prawn.  I’ll behave.”  She slipped back into her shoes.  “Spoil sport,” she muttered under her breath.  
  
Soon they came to a fork in the road, the river making a bend to the left and another path diverging to the right.  They looked at each other, down at the saffron-coloured dirt, then back at each other.  The Doctor put out his arm and said with a grin, “To Oz, Dorothy?”  
  
She replied with the same grin, “To Oz, Scarecrow.”  
  
And they both burst out laughing, skipping arm-in-arm along the yellow dirt road like a couple of children.  
  
Their way took them to the edge of a forest.  Donna held back, prompting the Doctor to turn to her and ask, “Donna?  Come on.  Aren’t you interested in finding out where this leads?”  
  
She stayed where she was, despite his urgings.  “I don’t know.  There’s just something not right about this.”  
  
He walked back to her and put his arm across her shoulder.  “Where’s your spirit of adventure?  The Emerald City might just be around the turn there.”  
  
“I’m telling you, I’m getting a very bad feeling about this,” she stated with a slight shudder.  
  
“Well, thank you for your concern, Han Solo,” he quipped, ducking out of the way of her arm as she attempted to swat him.  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.  It’s just a lovely wood.”  
  
She glared at him but relented, with a sigh.  “Well, just don’t expect me to stuff you back together when the Flying Monkeys have at you.”  
  
“That’s my girl.  Always looking out for me,” he said with a wink.  Squeezing her shoulder, he snickered, took her hand and exclaimed, “ _Allons-y!!_ ”  
  
It was rather peaceful as they walked slowly through the trees, the light filtering through the leaves making the path glow a soft gold.  Gradually, they lapsed into a comfortable silence, enjoying the serene ambiance.  After a while, however, Donna began to get that unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.    
  
“Doctor, do you hear that?” she asked him, her voice a little querulous.  
  
The Doctor stopped and tilted his head, listening intently.  “I don’t hear anything.”  
  
“That’s exactly what I mean,” she responded.  “There’s no noise.  Nothing.  A few minutes ago, you could hear birds and animals running through the underbrush.  Now, nothing.”  She shivered.  
  
He cocked his head to the side, listening intently, and frowned.  “That  _is_  strange,” he muttered.  “There should be all manner of fauna in this wood.”  He took a few steps forward and produced his sonic screwdriver from his pocket.  
  
Before he had a chance to switch it on, a voice growled from somewhere unseen.  “ **STOP!** ” it boomed loudly.  “You are not welcome here.  Be gone or face the consequences.”  
  
The Doctor, not one to let disembodied voices dictate his actions, called out in response, “I don’t take orders from voices in the air.  Show yourselves if you want to have a conversation.”  
  
Donna grabbed the Doctor’s sleeve.  “Let’s just go, yeah?  I didn’t want to come in here in the first place.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Donna.  It’s probably just a wee creature with a modulation box.  Meant to scare us, not hurt us.”  
  
“You should listen to your female,” the voice sounded again.  “She seems to have more sense than you.  Leave this place.”  
  
The Doctor was undaunted.  “Listen to you, all brave and shouty, hiding in the shadows.  Give me one good reason why we should leave?”  
  
There was a rustle of leaves and the sound of heavy footfalls.  Slowly, out of the gloom, several large cats walked toward them and stood in a group in front of therm.  The Doctor instinctively manoeuvred Donna behind him, to shield her from potential harm, and the two took several steps backwards.  
  
An enormous lion appeared behind the pack and, with great deliberation, strode to the space between the pack and the Doctor.  Sitting on its haunches, it was almost as tall as the Time Lord, and its silver mane shone with an almost preternatural light.  It surveyed the two people before it, and then spoke.  
  
“This wood is sacred to the Felileoni.  You were asked politely, puny Human.”  
  
More out of habit than anything, the Doctor quipped, “Oh, look, Donna.  It’s Alsan.  Funny, I thought this was Oz, not Narnia.”  
  
Donna hissed in his ear, “Don’t antagonize him.  Let’s just apologize and leave.”  
  
“Apologize?  For walking?  Nonsense.  I’m sure we can work this out amicably.”  He took two steps toward the beast, put out his hand, palm up, fingers slightly curled.  “Hello,” he said quietly.  “I am the Doctor.  And you are…?”  
  
The lion sniffed derisively and shook his mane.  “I am not some domesticated feline that you can placate with an outstretched hand and condescending manner.  I am Khairi, the Magnum Cattus of the Felileoni.  You have intruded on our sacred space and patronized our species.”  
  
The Doctor tutted.  “The Felileoni are a minor species inhabiting a small - minute really - section of this planet.  That makes you, Khairi, a great, big kitty in a tiny little forest.”  His eyes grew hard as he gazed unblinkingly at his adversary.  “And I can’t abide bullies.”  
  
 **“ENOUGH!!!”**  
  
  
Khairi’s roar was the last thing Donna remembered until she came to her senses a long while later.  She slowly sat up and rubbed her temples, hoping to make the residual buzzing stop.  Looking around, she realized that neither the Doctor nor the pride of Felileoni were anywhere in sight.  As she got to her feet, she noticed two things:  what appeared to be drag marks in the yellow surface of the path, and the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver.  Scrambling up quickly, she snatched up the device and began to follow the marks in the road.  They proceeded for quite a way before they veered off to the right, deeper into the wood.  
  
She hadn’t ventured far when the natural light began to fade, the trees growing closer together and shutting out the sun with its overhang of branches.  She held up the sonic screwdriver and peered intently at it.  After a particularly harrowing experience a while ago, she had insisted that the Doctor instruct her on some of the more basic settings.  
  
Pressing the button, she stopped at the setting for ‘Torch’, and a narrow beam illuminated the ground in front of her.  She crept slowly forward, stopping frequently to listen for sounds of the Doctor, or for the presence of others in the wood.  She walked deeper and deeper into the trees until she reached a place from which she could see the edge of a clearing.  
  
Moving as quietly as she could, she edged as close to the clearing as she felt was safe, crouching behind a tree.  At the end farthest from her was what appeared to be a crude stone altar.  At its right side stood a totem, approximately four metres tall, with carvings of various feline heads, from a small cat-like creature on top to a large representation of Khairi at the base.  
  
It was what was on the opposite side that caused Donna’s heart to constrict in her chest.  Two large poles – similar to cabers in size and length – were imbedded in the ground, standing two metres apart, with a metal crossbar between them at a height of approximately two-and-one-half metres.  Hanging from this bar by shackles on his wrists was the Doctor.  
  
Donna drew a sharp breath to stifle the natural cry of dismay.  She quickly noted that the clearing was empty, save the disturbing sight of the Doctor.  His duster was crumpled on the ground, his shirt was hanging open, and his trainers and socks had been tossed aside haphazardly.   
  
Turning off and pocketing the sonic-torch, she eased around the edge of the clearing, until she was directly behind the Doctor.  Checking carefully and moving cautiously, she inched her way into the clearing.  “Doctor,” she hissed.    
  
The Doctor jerked at the sound of her voice.  “Donna?” he whispered.  “Oh, thank the gods.  I have been worried sick, thinking they had harmed you.”  
  
“I’m fine.  Now hush.  The Feli-whatsits are gone, but I don’t know where or for how long.”  She pulled out the sonic and thumbed it to the ‘Locks’ setting.  “Doctor, I’m going to release the shackles now.  Will you be able stand on your own?”  The toes of his bare feet were just barely touching the ground.  
  
“I’m alright.  No problem.  They’ve gone to prepare for some kind of purification ritual.  Which may include a sacrifice.  Most probably me.  So I think it’s probably advisable that we get a move on.   _‘Allons-y’_  and all that,”  he breathed.  
  
Willing the sonic to be as silent as possible, Donna pointed it at the shackles and pressed the activator.  The metal bands parted and released the Doctor’s wrists.  He dropped to the ground like a stone.  And lay on his face in a heap.  
  
Donna shook her head and put the sonic away.  Walking over to the prone figure, she crouched down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Having a problem, Spaceman?” she asked, sarcasm masking the fear she was feeling.  
  
He rolled over slowly, groaning.  “A hand would be appreciated.”  
  
Holding out her hands, she pulled him to his feet.  He wobbled a bit and his knees began to buckle as he tried to stand.  Donna immediately draped his right arm over her left shoulder and grabbed his waist with her left arm, grunting as his weight fell heavily on her.  He tried to apologize but she shushed him sternly.  
  
“We’ve got to get out of here before they come back,” she whispered, bending to pick up his duster and trainers.  “Which is the quickest way back to the TARDIS?”  
  
Leaning on Donna to maintain his balance, he dug round in his trouser pocket.  After a few seconds, he exhaled and asked, sheepishly, “Donna?  Have you got your key?  I think mine was in my jacket pocket.  Which seems to be missing.”  
  
“Oh for god’s sake.  You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached.”  She evaluated the situation and came to the conclusion that she would either have to let him go, risking him falling down again, or have him retrieve it.  Sighing, she informed him _sotto voce_ , “It’s on the chain around my neck.  You’ll have to get it.  And no funny business.”   
  
Suitably warned, the Doctor carefully reached over and brushed aside Donna’s ginger hair, grasping the thin silver chain that sat on her long neck and drawing out the simple Yale key.  Immediately, it began to glow.  The glow intensified as he changed its orientation, directing them in a north-easterly direction.  Moving as quickly but quietly as they could, they finally emerged from the wood and back on the yellow road.   
  
The Doctor’s legs had regained much of their strength and they were able to travel more rapidly.  They had the TARDIS in sight, when a loud roar erupted from the wood, and the sound of heavy paw-falls spurred them into action.  “ ** _RUN!!_** ” the Doctor shouted, and he and his companion pelted to the already opened TARDIS doors.  They bounded through the door and up the ramped grating, as the TARDIS shook with the impact of a very large animal, followed by a loud, frustrated howl.  
  
Donna watched as the Doctor raced around the console, pulling levers, twisting dials and flicking switches.  The sound of the Time Rotor soothed her frazzled nerves a bit, but did nothing to ease the ache in her heart.  She gently draped his duster over its usual coral strut and placed his trainers beneath them.  She noticed, with alarm, that he was wincing as he reached for this or that mechanism.  She waited until the manic activity subsided.  
  
“Well,  ** _that_**  was certainly exciting,” the Doctor stated breezily.  “Where to now?  Maybe somewhere with a little less… _fauna_ , shall we say?”  He reached out to move the console monitor closer and couldn’t repress the groan elicited by overstretching his arm.  
  
Donna huffed.  “Where to?  The infirmary, that’s where.  You’ve obviously done yourself an injury.”  
  
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he lied.  “Be right as rain in a few minutes.”  He circled the console as he tried to avoid his companion.  But he knew it was futile.  She stood near the pilot’s seat with her arms crossed and her expression stern, just staring at him.    
  
He sighed heavily raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright,” he conceded.  “I’ll go.  But not the infirmary.  It’s just some strained muscles, is all.”  He paused and gaze at her meaningfully.  “Maybe one of your massages would do.”  
  
Donna tried to remain unaffected by what she referred to his  _‘Time Puppy’_  look, but knew it was a lost cause.  “Fine.  Go to the lounge and I’ll fetch those herbal oils you like so much.”  She left without another word.  When she entered the lounge a few minutes later, she found him exactly as she had expected – shirtless and draped over the massage chair the TARDIS had provided.  She smiled to herself at his eagerness, as she set the oils in the small unit that heated them, and lit the geranium-scented candle, the fragrance of which relaxed the mind and eased bodily tensions.   
  
She had performed this healing service for him on a few previous occasions, mostly for strained neck muscles after hours spent in one of the cubbyholes under the console repairing this and that, and for the odd twisted ankle acquired during one of their mad dashes back to the ship, so the routine was familiar to them both.  
  
She hushed him sternly when he tried to chat with her as she worked.  With a muffled  _‘Yes, Mum’_ , he settled down and quickly fell under the soothing spell of Donna’s capable hands.  Starting with a gentle rub with rosemary oil, she used this time to delicately identify which areas were in most need of attention, and to lull her patient into a sense of calm.  
  
When the Doctor was sufficiently relaxed, she wiped his skin clean and poured a liberal amount of arnica oil into her hands.  She then proceeded with the main event.  Using firm strokes and deliberate kneading, she concentrated on those areas most affected by his ordeal.  She worked the muscles of his upper back and shoulders, which had been stretched and strained by hanging from his wrists.  His neck muscles were also tense from holding his head up at that unusual angle.  
  
As she worked, the Doctor luxuriated in the feel of Donna’s hands, stretching and releasing his aching back.  He was nearly asleep from her ministrations, when something niggled in his mind.  It was very quiet in the lounge, he realized.  Too quiet.  Donna usually made a running commentary of his perceived faults – his narrow shoulders, ribs she could count, messy hair – all in the easy, teasing banter that they both enjoyed.  
  
But now, nothing.  Not a word.  She worked with silent efficiency, which was so unlike her.  He had just made up his mind to say something, when she struck a particularly sensitive spot and the exquisite pleasure and relief he felt pushed all thought of anything else to the back corner of his mind.  
  
Donna continued to minister to the Doctor’s strains and tensions until she was satisfied she had done all she could for his aches and pains.  Gently removing the remains of the arnica oil, she smoothed an amount of lemongrass oil – designed to increase circulation and reduce any remaining stiffness – over his skin.  Wiping her hands on a wet cloth, she began to gather her things and turned to leave.  
  
Sensing rather than seeing her leave, the Doctor sat up quickly.  “Donna!  Wait.”  
  
She stopped but did not turn around.  “You’re supposed to be resting,” she stated.  
  
Donning his shirt, he strode over to her had put a hand on her shoulder.  “Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned but confused at the same time.    
  
Donna slowly turned around, and he was startled at the look of sorrow in her eyes.  Taking her hand, he led her to the leather sofa tucked away in a quiet corner of the lounge.  They sat in silence for a few moments.  When he could take it no longer, he blurted out, “What did I do?  Have I upset you somehow?  What’s wrong?”  
  
She stared at him, her lower lip caught in her teeth as she considered her answer.  Finally, she sighed deeply and asked, “Did you mean what you said on Goritania?”  
  
The Doctor opened his mouth to answer.  And immediately closed it again.  Furrowing his brows, he replied, “Could you be a little more specific?  I said quite a lot of things back there.”  
  
“Git,” she muttered.  “About me leaving.  That you weren’t  _‘fine’_  about it.  That you never get used to people leaving you.  That you’re never ready when they leave.”  She stopped and sighed again.  “That they’re  _‘heartbreakers’_.”  
  
This was positively the last thing he ever expected her to say.  In the first place, he was surprised that she listened to what he had said, let alone  _remembered_  it.  It obviously had an impact on her, but what exactly was she asking?  He decided to answer honestly and see what direction the conversation took.  
  
“Yes,” he replied.  “I did.  I get attached to you lot, some more than others.”  He gave her a small, quirky smile.  “I would never stand in the way of anyone’s happiness, of course.  But, well, I enjoy the company.  I’ve never been very good on my own.  And you said it: sometimes I need someone to stop me.”  He sat back and looked at her.  “So is that it?  You want to leave me, but you’re afraid you’ll hurt my feelings?”  
  
Donna stared at him, shaking her head.  “You great big dumbo.  Who said anything about wanting to leave?”  She smacked his knee for good measure.  
  
“Ow!  Then what?”  
  
“Have you  ** _ever_**  give a thought to what  _‘us lot’_  go through, travelling with you?  That  _we_ can get attached to  ** _you_**?!  And I’m not talking about a Rose or Martha kind of attachment.”  
  
The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck.  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about.”  
  
Donna sniffed.  “Of course, you don’t,” she spat.  “You’re oblivious to it all.  You go haring off, happy as you please, dragging us with you.  Not a care in the world.  No thought for the danger.  You just head for any adventure you happen upon.”  
  
The Doctor shook his head in disbelief.  “Donna, you knew what kind of life this is.  But do you really think I put you in harm’s way on purpose?  That I don’t do everything I can to keep you safe?!”  
  
“No, no, no!” she cried.  “You great bloody twit!  You’ve got it the wrong way round.”  
  
“I have?”  
  
“Yes.  You have.  It’s not about whether you keep me safe or not.  I know you do.  Or at least you try.”  She stood up and walked a few steps away.  “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to have to watch you run full tilt toward some big, bad  ** _thingy_**  and know there isn’t a bloody thing I can do?  Oh, sure.  I can stop you making the occasional poor choice.  Or encourage you to make a better choice, like Pompeii.”  
  
She covered her face with her hands.  After a moment – during which the Doctor wisely kept quiet – she returned to the sofa and sat down.  “Today,” she said quietly.  “Today you scared me half to death.  You were  ** _goading_**  that lion, purposely baiting him.  And all I could do was watch.”  
  
She glared at him, her eyes filled with the terror she felt at the time.  “When I woke up and you were gone, I can’t begin to tell you how horrible I felt.  Not because I was alone, mind.  But because I didn’t know whether you were alive or dead, whether you were being tortured or…well,  ** _eaten_**!  It wasn’t until I saw your sonic that I felt a glimmer of hope.”  
  
It all became clear to the Doctor.  The woman who sat beside him, the companion he had come to depend on, was anxious, not for  _her_  safety, but for  _HIS_!  She didn’t care what the universe could give her, wasn’t interested in how she could benefit from an association with him.  She cared about him for  _himself_.  And she worried about him.  No, worried  ** _for_**  him.  
  
Her selflessness and caring spirit both amazed and humbled him.  He realized he did have a tendency to act first and think later, which had gotten him in a tangle or two in the past, he had to admit.  That was one of the things that he had come to rely on Donna for.  She was his conscience and his compass.    
  
He also recognized that there were many aspects of being a Time Lord that he never explained to his companions: the quirks of his physiology, and codes of conduct that were ingrained in him.  Maybe it was time to be a little less circumspect and share more of his background.  Rassilon knows Donna had been badgering him to at least translate the supplies in the infirmary.  She had already succeeded in prodding him into showing her the rudiments of flying the TARDIS.  
  
He leaned in closer and took both of her hands in his.  “Donna, I am so, so sorry.  You’re right.  I have never looked at things from your perspective.  I have been so used to  _‘doing my own thing’_ , as you Humans like to say, that I sometimes forget there may be consequences for those travelling with me.  I’m sorry if I have frightened you by my capricious ways, and I promise that I’ll try to be more aware in the future.”  
  
Donna was touched – and a little surprised – by his understanding of her feelings.  She was also ever-so-slightly embarrassed by his sincerity and openness.  To minimize this, she took back her hands and smiled.  “It’s all good, Spaceman.  I was just overreacting.”  
  
“No, you weren’t,” he countered.  “You had every right to be upset and point out when I’ve taken things for granted.  I rely on you for that, you know.”  
  
“Ah, go on with you.  It’s just what mates do.  Watch out for each other.”  
  
“Yes, they do,” he replied seriously.  “And you are the best mate a tired old Time Lord could ask for.”  He paused.  “Donna, since we’re talking about Goritiania, may I ask  _you_  something?”  
  
It was Donna’s turn to be wary.  “What?” she asked cautiously.  
  
“Are you all right?  I mean,  _really_  all right?  Not  _Time Lord all right_.”  
  
She smiled at his concern.  “Yeah.  Like I said, I’m fine.  Nothing like a near-death experience to put your head on straight.”  
  
“Not many ‘ _Happy Ever Afters’_  in this line of work, you know,” the Doctor said, trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
She eyed him critically, suspecting he wanted to say something important but in his usual cryptic way, he beat around the bush.  She thought for a moment and then stated, “All depends on what you mean by  _‘Happy Ever After’_ , don’t it?”  
  
“How?”  
  
“If you’re talking about the fairytale princess sort of thing, well, yeah.  Fairytales are, by definition, not real.  That’s the  _tale_  part of it.  It’s a story; it could never happen.  And who’d want it to anyway?  Most of those people would be dead boring after about six months.  And think of all the restrictions and the scrutiny!  A princess would have to watch her every move.  She could never just pop down to the shops for fish and chips on a Saturday.”  
  
She shook her head.  “Not for me, thanks.  I like it right here.   ** _This_**  is my  _‘Happy Ever After’_.  Here in the TARDIS with my best mate, travelling the Universe and making a difference.  I never had that back on Earth.  Back there, I was just plain old Donna, the spinster temp.  Here,” she explained, “I’m brilliant.  The  _plucky young girl_  who helps out.  I’m happy here.  Happier than I’ve ever been, maybe ever will be.”  She smiled at the Doctor.  “Is that what you wanted to know, Spaceman?”  
  
The Doctor sat there gobsmacked, unable to make a sound while his overloaded brain processed what his amazing companion had just revealed.  Seeing his confusion and secretly revelling in the fact that she left him speechless, Donna stood up and held out her hand, helping him to his feet.  
  
“I don’t know about you, but I could murder a cuppa,” she declared.  “I’ll go put on the kettle, and you can join me when you get your voice back.”  She chuckled as she started for the door.  “Oh,” she added, turning back to him.  “And please button up your shirt.  A girl could go blind staring at all that pale flesh!”  She turned away quickly, hoping he did not notice the slight blush than crept over her cheeks.  
  
He slowly threaded buttons through holes as he contemplated their conversation.  He sensed that something significant had transpired today, with the two of them opening up to each other.  He had learned that she cared for him – which he had not doubted before – but it seemed to be a different level of caring.  And she  _did_ consider traveling with him her  _‘Happy Ever After’_.  He would have to do all in his power to make it so.  
  
A smug grin broke out as he recalled the blush she tried to hide.   _‘Not as immune as she makes out,’_  he thought.  ‘ _Have to keep that to myself for now.’_  He finished buttoning his shirt and called down the hallway, “Donna?  Can we have some of those chocolate bourbons I know you have hidden in the pantry?”  
  
Her laughter could be heard echoing through the ship.


End file.
